Second, My Soul
by Epilachna
Summary: Lucian finds love again in five chapters. A short story.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **__I own nothing._

**Chapter 1**

'I'm looking for the infirmary.'

'You've found it.' A small woman stood folding bandages. She turned toward the door. 'You one of Lucian's men?'

The question held an edge of disdain.

'Yes.'

She gestured at his blood stained shirt. 'Take it off.'

He complied and took a seat on the low table.

She came and stood between his knees. Close. She touched his chest with soft, gentle hands where the shirt had been torn. Her hair smelled like flowers. 'What am I looking at?'

'My chest?' he replied.

A soft round face framed by golden curls lifted upward. Brown eyes glared at him, warning him of what his joke would cost.

'The tip of an arrow broke off in the bone.'

She shook her head in disapproval. 'So you thought you'd let it heal over?'

'It seemed the best option at the time.'

'Regretting it now, though?'

'A bit.' He shifted uncomfortably, unaccustomed to being spoken to like a child.

'I'll have to open you up again,' she told him. 'I hope you're not squeamish.'

He shook his head. 'Not hardly.'

She turned away and took a sharp knife and a pair of pliers from the table and placed them in the fire. They waited while the instruments cooked. 'Where were you attacked?'

'By the ford, at the southern pass.'

The woman laughed scornfully. 'Only a fool would go that way.'

'It was the quickest route.' He'd studied the maps.

'The straightest way is not always the best. Your leader had better learn that lesson if he thinks to win my father's loyalty. Or not … and maybe he'll heed me and throw Lucian out on his ass.'

The word father was more a shock than her spite. 'Your father? You're Gorski's daughter.'

'I am.'

'I wasn't aware he had a daughter … only sons.'

'He has no sons, thanks to your master.'

His interest piqued. 'What do you mean?' He'd been unable to learn much about this lycan lord before now.

She lifted the tools from the fire and placed them red hot into a bottle of alcohol. The liquid hissed. 'Before he decided to fight the vampires, Lucian was their hound. He killed my brothers, and God knows how many more.'

'I see.'

She pulled the tools from the vessel and laid them beside him on the table along with bandages and a jar of salve. 'Are you ready?'

He gripped the table. 'Ready.'

She sliced his pectoral open with the blade, held in her left hand. He growled but did not move. This pain was nothing. He'd known so much more.

'Hold still.'

She didn't have to tell him. He didn't move. She took the pliers in her right hand and pressing open the wound with her left, exposed the tip of the broken arrow. She took hold of it with the pliers and carefully pulled it from the bone and out his flesh. She held it up to him.

'There.'

He took the broken piece of metal between his fingers. 'Thank you.'

She nodded and returned the implements to the liquor bath. Then she cleaned the wound with antiseptic. He hissed. She ignored him and continued with her work, quickly, deftly, carefully as possible. Her left hand rested idly on his waist. Tiny hands. It had been weeks since he'd felt a woman's touch. He was a lonely man, but never alone. There were more than enough women willing to warm his bed and every one meant nothing to him. She wrapped a bandage around his torso, her breath light on his neck and chest as she passed the strip around his back. He wondered what those hands would feel like roaming across his body.

'You have a gentle touch.'

She glared up at him. Her eyes told him she'd heard it before and did not appreciate his thoughts. Those eyes made him feel guilty. She had tended his injury with careful expertise and in return he offered her lechery.

'There. You'll be fine.'

He pulled on his shirt. 'Thank you. Again.'

The door flew open as he buttoned up and Gorski entered. 'Lucian. There you are. I was told you were injured. I hope you were well cared for.' Both men looked to the woman standing at the fire. Her expression of shock masked quickly.

'I was.'

'And you've met my daughter.'

Lucian shook his head and turned apologetic eyes on the woman. 'Not by name.'

Gorski admonished his daughter. 'Shame on you, Janya, you should have introduced yourself properly.'

Lucian lifted his hand. 'It's my fault. I find many people are less willing to speak their minds once they know my name.'

The man laughed. 'You would not have found that to be a problem with my daughter.'

'I'm glad.'

Gorski gestured to the door. 'Shall we?'

'My lady.' Lucian bowed.

She nodded, then turned away.

Lucian followed the other man out the door. Gorski closed it and led Lucian down the hall. 'What did she say to you?'

'That I am a fool and a murderer of my own kind.'

Gorski stopped in his tracks, his mouth opened slightly then closed again then opened. 'I apologize.'

'Don't. She's right. You would do well to heed one so wise.'

Gorski was surprised by the praise his daughter had garnered. It was not every lycan leader who would heed the words of one so much lower in rank.

Lucian read the unspoken question in his eyes. 'I've learned not to dismiss the wisdom of those who disagree with me. If I had, I'd have been dead long ago.'

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_50 years later_

He walked through the door and she looked up. Her lips drew downward into a frown. He'd won her father's loyalty that first visit. He was sure she'd never forgive him. Since then he'd enjoyed her wit and her temper and her haughty refusal of his advances. It was a game he'd come to enjoy and he enjoyed so little in life.

'Not injured again, are you?'

He smiled and shook his head. 'Unfortunately, no. I took the long way around.'

'Unfortunately?'

'Well, I certainly wouldn't mind being tended to by so skilled a healer.'

'Ah, yes. You like my hands.' He'd told her so multiple times over the years in various subtle ways. 'Why are you here then?'

'To say hello.'

'You could have waited until dinner.' She lifted a blade from a line on the table and began sharpening it on a stretch of leather.

'I could have, but there's time before the meeting begins.' He came up behind her and took the knife gently from her hand. She flinched slightly, ever so, and he scented a subtle tinge of fear. It passed quickly. He took her place with the strop. She let him. Then she found another task to occupy her hands and time.

'Will the meeting be long?'

He heard concern there. 'Several days at least.'

She nodded. He checked the blade and returned it to the table and then he took up another. The door opened. Stefan entered – another lycan leader from a neighboring den – loyal to Lucian, above Gorski in rank.

'There you are.' He said to the woman. 'I've been looking for you.'

He didn't see Lucian who stood to the right and behind the door. So much the better. If he'd seen the other man he might have fixed his tone to one which would seem less threatening. It was too late for that now. And that same smell Lucian scented earlier floated to him from across the way. Fear. Strong. Fragrant.

Lucian cleared his throat and the man pushed wide the door. His eyes locked with Lucian's. 'My Lord.' The tone was changed completely. 'I didn't know you were here.'

'Janya and I were catching up.'

Stefan nodded then cast his eyes back on the woman. Softer now. 'I'll find you later, then.' He closed the door.

Lucian continued with the strop and Janya continued with the wash. He watched her but she did not look at him. She knew he'd seen too much. He laid the blade down and walked to where she stood beside the washbasin. He sat on the chair to her left. Still she said nothing.

'You're not a coward.'

She looked at him then. Her face was set like stone, a marble mask betraying nothing.

'I've known you some time now. You're many things ... stubborn, opinionated. You've argued with your father in open court, and me as well.' He laughed. 'You even poked Raze in the stomach that one time though he threatened to crush you with one hand. You're not a coward.'

She looked away, back at her washing.

'Tell me why you fear him.'

She shook her head.

'Must I make it a command?'

She turned on him then, venomous. 'This is not your concern.'

He was prepared for her anger. He answered it with calm. 'I think otherwise. I'm the leader of these men. If one has done something to warrant punishment, it's my duty to mete it out.'

It was the right answer to give. Her anger did not lessen but it cooled. There was wariness in her still. She tolerated her newly appointed lord, sparred with him even, but trust was far from earned. But now he spoke of duty and rank. These were things she understood and could accept as an excuse to speak. He could see it in her eyes. A command, then.

'Tell me.'

She clutched the edge of the basin. 'He wishes for me to be his mate.'

Lucian sat silently, waiting, but she said no more. An interrogation, then. 'He asked you to bond with him?'

She nodded. 'For over eighty years. Every time he's here he asks. He won't accept no for an answer.'

Lucian weighed his next words carefully. He knew the woman would not be standing here now, eyes downcast, and hands clutching a washboard rim if Stefan's questioning was the end of it.

'And after you say no, what then?'

She closed her eyes briefly and opened them again. 'He finds me ... when I'm alone. In my room, here in the infirmary, once in the storeroom. He says one day I'll say yes.' Then she whispered. 'I never say yes.'

She stopped there and said no more. There was no need. It was times like these Lucian wished he were not a leader of men. A simple warrior could tear Stefan's throat out in a challenge with few repercussions. Lucian had a sea of lycan politics to navigate. The point became moot when she spoke again.

'You won't tell anyone.'

'I have to.'

'No you don't.'

'He must be punished.'

'I'll deny it. So will he.'

He glared at her then, angry, but he understood. 'He'll find you, later?'

She nodded.

'Then I'll be there as well. And we'll have a private talk.'

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He came to her room after dinner. She invited him in. It was the first time he'd seen her rooms. They were warm, simple, and elegant, clothed in shades of green. A small sitting room led to a bed chamber and that is where he would wait.

'Did you lock the door?'

She laughed. 'I always do. It doesn't stop him.'

He said no more, only watched her light a fire in the small hearth and pace nervously about the room. He felt he should say something. Tell her it would be all right. But he was occupied with his own anger eating at him from the inside. He should have known something was wrong. He should have protected her. These were foolish thoughts, he knew. He had never been in this den at the same time as Stefan. There was nothing he could have done before now.

He heard a sound in the hall and Janya heard it too. He nodded to her and then he slipped silently from the sitting room into her bedchamber to hide. They knew Stefan would smell him, so he'd sat by her side through dinner and made it a point to dance with her often and hug her before they were seen to part ways. Hopefully it would be enough for the man to dismiss his scent.

Lucian heard the lock click and the door open. Stefan was inside as easily as if the door had been left open.

'And finally, we're alone.' The door closed and he heard the quiet shuffling of boots on stone. 'You certainly made a spectacle of yourself at dinner, hanging on Lucian all night. You wish to be one of his whores, is that it?'

'No.'

'No? That's what it looked like to me.'

'I don't care what you think.'

A gasp.

'You should.' A pause. 'Do you pine for him? Is that why you continue to refuse me?'

'No. ' Another gasp. A whimper.

'Then tell me what I want to hear.'

'No.'

'No?' An angry growl. A crash. Glass shattering. 'We'll see, won't we?'

A cry. Footsteps drawing near. The sound of something being pulled across the floor.

He passed through the door an arm's length from Lucian, dragging Janya by her hair. She clawed his hand and kicked as he pulled her along.

'That's enough.'

The man stopped in his tracks and spun around but he did not release his hold on the woman. Instead he laughed, for the first time surprising Lucian with his actions.

'I see I was right.'

Lucian stepped out of the shadows. 'Let her go.'

Stefan obeyed but why was a matter of question. There was no deference in his eyes or his stance. Janya backed away from him, retreating to the wall.

Stefan dared not take his eyes off Lucian. 'She's mine.'

'I don't think so. She gave you her answer.'

'A woman's mind can be changed.'

Lucian shook his head. 'You'll never have her.'

He laughed, coldly. 'I already have.'

Another step. 'Her body, you've taken … but her heart, her mind, her soul. She will never give them to you.'

'But she'll give them to you. Is that it?'

He couldn't say why those words angered him. 'To someone. Some day.' He lunged forward, lashing out at the man, sending him careening against the stone. He took the fool by the throat, cutting off his air and held him pinned to the wall. 'But not to you. You have your answer. She's mine now, under my protection. You can either accept this or challenge me if you prefer to die.'

Stefan dared not touch the hand wrapped around his throat. He was a lycan and the instinct to submit to one more powerful was strong within him. He nodded as best he could in answer and Lucian released him. Stefan stood, straightened himself, and headed for the door. Before he left he glanced back at the woman who sat still with her knees drawn up, propped against the wall. Submitting to Lucian was one thing, apologizing to her was another matter.

'Not his whore?' he said. Then he left.

Lucian watched him go. He should have knocked his teeth in for that remark. It would make him feel better, but would have accomplished little else. He moved to where she sat and offered her a hand. She shook her head.

'Just go.'

He understood her need for solitude and turned away toward the door. When he got there he paused and looked back at her. 'You're not mine or anyone else's. You belong only to yourself.'

She nodded in acknowledgment of his words and before he closed the outer door he heard a whispered: 'Thank you.'

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_104 years later_

They were friends, nothing more, though he often wished it otherwise.

He'd kept his distance for years after the confrontation with Stefan. Something about what the bastard had said. He'd called her a whore. His whore. The accusation grated. No doubt it troubled him more than her. After centuries he'd lost count of his mistresses, his lovers, the one-night turns during his travels. _His whores._ She was not one of them. She would never be one of them. And so it felt wrong to make idle jests or taunt her about her hands.

He watched her dance. It was a celebration. The day lycans remembered as the day they first stood for freedom. He spent the holiday at a different location every year and he was back at Groski's den.

Raze and several of the higher ranking men had abandoned him an hour ago to play cards. He sat alone now, watching the entertainments from a corner chair. A serving girl came by to fill his mug with more ale. The curl of her mouth and her scent spoke of her eagerness to please him. He wasn't interested. He continued watching the dancers.

At some point in the late evening Janya spied him sitting there alone. She greeted him with a smile, like she always did, and came and sat by his side.

'Just watching?'

'I like to see joy in their eyes. I don't see it often.'

She shook her head. 'You look in the wrong places. There is joy everywhere, all the time.'

'Is that right?'

There was a blush to her cheek. The dancing and wine had a freeing effect on all. A few stray curls framed her face. He wanted to touch them. He didn't. She looked beautiful and he looked away.

Janya leaned forward on the table resting her chin on her hand. 'If you could have anything, what would it be?'

It was not an intrusive question, but the question asked of all on this day. He didn't need to think up an answer. 'Peace.'

'And after peace, what then?'

He leaned back in his chair pondering his mug as if the answer could be found there. 'I don't know.'

She didn't believe him. 'Don't tell me you've never dreamed of the day after. We all have. What do you dream of?'

He _had _an answer but he wasn't sure he was ready to admit the truth of it, even to himself. He took another swig of ale and then another, his eyes on the dancers, his thoughts far away. He'd dreamed of the future since all this began. In the early years, his dreams were of Sonja and her miraculous return to him. But the dream was changed, now and forever. He still dreamed of Sonja, of course, but he longed for someone else, someone alive but still out of reach.

He shifted his gaze and watched her watch the dancers, a smile lighting her face. She wasn't out of reach. She was close. So close. He could reach out and touch her. All he had to do was act. Was he the coward now? Afraid to lose what remained of his heart. If he moved forward there would be no turning back. Not ever again. Could he do it? Could he leave Sonja behind and cling to a new dream?

'You.' There. He'd said it.

Janya's attention had strayed to the dancers. She'd missed what he said. 'Pardon?'

He sighed, eyes downcast. 'I dream of you.'

'Me?'

'Yes.' He said, eyes lifting to hers. What he saw was not what he'd expected. Her eyes hardened in anger.

'I don't find your humor entertaining.' She made to stand. His hand on her arm held her in place.

He'd reached out. He'd done it. He couldn't stop now. 'It's not a joke.' _I love you. _He'd meant to say it but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn't say it. The last time he'd said it his world fell apart.

She shook her head. 'I'll be no man's whore, Lucian. Not yours, not anyone's.'

'That's not … you don't understand.'

She tried to pry his hand from her arm. 'Let go of me.'

That was the problem, wasn't it? He couldn't let go. 'I've tried. For years I've tried.' And then he said it. 'The last thing I wanted was to love again.'

She stilled. She'd heard him that time and he could see it there, love for him in her eyes, but it vanished quickly replaced by ice. Those eyes bore into him, seeking truth.

And when she finally found it her mask collapsed and sadness replaced her anger. 'I can't. I can't be your lover.'

He watched the tide shift. The sadness came in. _Can't, _she'd said. _Not won't._ He released his hold on her arm. 'Why not?'

'Many reasons.'

'Give me one.'

At that moment the server returned to refill their ale. Janya watched the woman silently. She, too, could see the woman's desire for him. She could smell it. The server left them and Janya's attention returned to her drink.

'I won't be one of many, Lucian.'

'You won't be,' he said, and meant it.

She knew he did. But still… 'I can't.'

'Is there someone else?' He didn't think so, but could not be sure.

She laughed bitterly. 'No. No one else.'

'What then?'

It was not a command, merely a question. But thinking it an order made it easier to speak. She exhaled slowly, a calming breath. 'I've tried … with others.'

'Tried?' He wasn't quite sure he understood her.

'It always feels like him, when they touch me.'

_Stefan. _Damn him. 'In my arms you would not feel him.'

'No?'

'No.' He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. 'Let me show you.'

She considered him for a long time. He didn't know what thoughts she might be weighing. He'd earned her trust a long time ago, but he didn't think it would stretch that far. He was wrong. Her lip curled and she stood pulling him along with her. He followed her from the hall. No one paid them any mind, excepting the serving girl, who appeared as if she'd tasted something sour.

Her room was as he remembered it, green and warm and inviting. And she invited him in. She sat herself on the sofa, legs tucked under her, watching him. He seated himself next to her and propped his head up on his hand. He reached out the other hand to brush a stray curl back behind her ear. She didn't flinch. No fear. Not yet. Where to begin?

'What troubles you most?'

She considered the question awhile before coming to an answer. 'Hands.'

'Hands?'

'Touching me. I can't control them.'

Ah, well, control he could give her. It was, ironically, one of the things he'd desired from the start. 'Then I won't touch you, unless you ask.'

She laughed at his intention. 'How will you manage that?'

'You think I lack control?'

'I don't know.'

He took her hand in his and kissed it. 'You'll have to lead, though, if my hands are bound by this promise.'

'Lead?' she said. 'I'm not sure I know how.'

He kissed her then, gently. She tasted of cinnamon. He wanted more and to his utter surprise, she gave it to him, returning his kiss with a passion greater than his own. When he pulled away his lips curled and his eyes lit with amusement. 'You'll figure it out I think.'

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He sat them down and this time _she_ kissed _him_. He let her set the pace with her mouth and tongue for her sake as much as his own. He wanted to pull her close. He wanted to feel her body in his arms and run his hands across her flesh. He didn't. He couldn't. He'd made a promise and Lucian always kept his word. No hands. _Damn it. He needed to do something with his hands. _Lucian inched back along the bed to the headboard, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the floor as he went. She followed him on hands and knees. When his back hit the frame he wrapped his hands around the posts to occupy them.

When he was finally in place, Janya straddled his lap and bit his lower lip. Her teeth drew blood, and she lapped it up. He moaned, but not in pain. His heart pounded harder in his chest. Her hands caressed both sides of his face and they descended slowly, down his neck, over his shoulders to his chest. Her nails grazed his throat and chest but not hard enough to break the skin. He'd waited so long for those hands and now her soft touch had him panting.

Her tongue danced with his until his breath came in ragged gasps and then without warning she withdrew. He caught his breath and moved to claim her mouth again, but gripping the bed frame, he could only go so far. She stayed just out of reach, her breath hot on his face, her lips less than an inch from his. She was testing him. She was waiting to see what he would do, if he would release the frame and break his word. He wouldn't.

'Please.' He begged her. 'Don't stop.'

She brushed her lips lightly over his in answer and then moved down to his neck. A gentle nip and then her tongue again and lips all the way down. When she reached his shoulder she bit him, her eye-teeth sinking in. He gasped and gripped the frame tighter as she drank from him. He leaned his head back against the pillows his mind incapable of thought. She abandoned her mark and traveled downward kissing her way down his chest and stomach while her fingers traced along the waist of his pants. She traveled upward again, her kisses pausing when she reached his chest. Delicate fingers passed over the old wound she'd once tended and when she grazed his nipple he shuddered and gasped.

'You like when I touch you like this?'

He laughed. 'God, yes.'

'Your hands are bleeding.'

He looked at his hands. Blood dripped from his palms. He'd been holding on so tight. 'It's all right.'

She reached up and took his right hand by the wrist. She drew it back from exile and up to her lips. She licked his palm clean. Then she traced the line of her jaw with his fingers and drew them down the length of her neck until his hand rested on the curve of her breast. He could feel her heart beating fast.

His left hand clutched the bed post tighter.

'You want to let go of the frame.' It wasn't a question.

'Yes.'

'And when you let go, what then?'

He could smell her desire mingled with fear. 'I'll spend the rest of the evening, all of tonight, and tomorrow making you feel as I do now.'

She laughed. 'You think you can last that long?'

'I always keep my word.'

She leaned forward with his hand still pressed to her chest and kissed him hard on the mouth. 'Lucian,' she said, when they paused for air. 'I want you to touch me.'

That was all the encouragement he needed. He released the headboard and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her as he'd wanted to for years, pressed against him, his hands running through her hair and down her back. He unlaced her corset with practiced ease and tossed it on the floor. He lowered her onto the bed. His own desire melded with hers, flooding the room, drowning out fear and doubt and everything else. His kissed his way across her cheek and along her jawbone to breathe hot on her neck.

'My hands are yours,' he whispered. 'Tell me what you'd do with them.'

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Thanks to Roni2010 for being my first reviewer and The Riz for showing me love! Well, it's a T rated sex scene so you miss all the good parts. I just didn't feel like getting smutty with this one. The story didn't call for it and there are plenty of other fanfics around here if you're looking for graphic content. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_47 years later_

It was a happy day, the happiest in his long life. But sadness crept in at its edges. It found him when he first heard her scream. She'd cried out in pain and he stood there, helpless, unable do a thing to help her. The other women tried to shoo him from the room but he'd have none of it. He held her in his arms through it all. And she screamed – like Sonja screamed. But instead of death that day there was life, laid in his hands, cradled in his arms. He wept for joy and in sorrow, too. They were at once the same.

Hours later Lucian sat beside her on the bed rocking their child gently in his arms. He knew no children's songs so instead he hummed snatches of old bar tunes. Stray tears fell from his eyes from time to time unbidden, the why of them known only to him. On the rare occasions when Lucian cried it was always a fair bet he was thinking on Sonja. But today it wasn't so. He'd cried for Sonja often through the years, but until today, never for their child alone. It was too abstract a thought to mourn the loss of a life he'd never beheld. But holding this life, this fragile incarnate piece of his soul, he finally understood what it was he'd lost. He held the child all night, only handing him over for his mother to feed him. She slept now, and the infant, too, but Lucian could find no rest. There would be none until the world was made safe for them.

_I will not fail you as I failed before. _

A silent oath. A promise he would trade his life to keep.

She woke from sleep and watched him. There was sadness and tears in his eyes. 'Are you thinking of them?'

Her question was not one he wished to answer, but he would never lie. Another promise, made years ago. He frowned, guilty with the thought that this day should be for the living, not the dead. 'I'm sorry.'

She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. 'For what?'

He took a measured breath. 'It's not right, on this day … or any day.'

'You loved them. It is right.' Tiny fingers stroked his hand.

He shifted position so he could lay the child between them. He laid the bundle down and then turned on his side so they faced each other. He took her hand in his. 'It feels wrong, to think on the dead when we have been blessed with a new life.'

'It's better not to keep it inside. Tell me what you've been thinking about.'

He'd told her so much over the years. She knew him. Better than anyone. Better than Sonja had or possibly ever could. But still there were things he feared to share. Things she might not understand. He told her anyway. 'I never wept for him, the child that died with her. I never understood. And now I hold our son and I imagine … he would've been four hundred years old now and I never wept for him.'

Her grip tightened on his wrist in comfort and admonishment. 'Lucian. It's difficult to mourn for something you never had. You shed many tears for her and the life inside her. Just because you couldn't separate the child and mother before now doesn't mean you didn't care.'

'Why must it be today, of all days, that these thoughts rise up to haunt me?' His head was filled with too much bile. And on such a beautiful day.

'Because a broken heart will always ache when you test it again.' She sighed. 'I learned long ago how fragile yours is.'

_Damn both my heart and my weakness_. 'It isn't fair, to you, or to him.' He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. 'A broken heart is no gift at all. My soul will have to do.'

She smiled. 'We'll keep it safe for you.'

'You'd better,' he said, and kissed the child on his cheek. 'I can carry on with a broken heart. But without my soul, I'd be lost forever.'

~FIN

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_**A/N: **__That's it folks. I hope you enjoyed the story. Please leave a review before you go!_


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